The Mahatma and the Hare eBook

“I’ve got her,” said the voice of
Tom gleefully. “My! isn’t she a beauty?
Over nine pounds if she is an ounce. Only just
in time, though,” he went on, “for, look!
she’s drowning; her head wobbles as though she
were sea-sick. Buck up, pussie, buck up!
You mustn’t cheat the hounds at last, you know.
It wouldn’t be sportsmanlike, and they hate dead
hares.”

Then he held me by my hind legs to drain the water
out of me, and afterwards began to blow down my nose,
I did not know why.

“Don’t do that, Tom,” said Ella
sharply. “It’s nasty.”

“Must keep the life in her somehow,” answered
Tom, and went on blowing.

“Master Tom,” interrupted Giles, who was
rowing the boat. “I ain’t particular,
but I wish you’d leave that there hare alone.
Somehow I thinks there’s bad news in its eye.
Who knows? P’raps the little devil feels.
Any way, it’s a rum one, its swimming out to
sea. I never see’d a hunted hare do that
afore.”

“Bosh!” said Tom, and continued his blowing.

We reached the shore and Tom jumped out of the boat,
holding me by the ears. The hounds were all on
the beach, most of them lying down, for they were
very tired, but the men were standing in a knot at
a distance talking earnestly, Tom ran to the hounds,
crying out—­

“Here she is, my beauties, here she is!”
whereon they got up and began to bay. Then he
held me above them.

“Master Tom,” I heard Jerry’s voice
say, “for God’s sake let that hare go
and listen, Master Tom,” and the girl Ella, who
of a sudden had begun to sob, tried to pull him back.

But he was mad to see me bitten to death and eaten,
and until he had done so would attend to no one.
He only shouted, “One—­two—­three!
Now, hounds! Worry, worry, worry!”

Then he threw me into the air above the red throats
and gnashing teeth which leapt up towards me.

*****

The Hare paused, but added, “Did you tell me,
friend Mahatma, that you had never been torn to pieces
by hounds, ‘broken up,’ I believe they
call it?”

“Yes, I did,” I answered, “and what
is more I shall be obliged if you will not dwell upon
the subject.”

THE COMING OF THE RED-FACED MAN

“As you like,” said the Hare. “Certainly
it was very dreadful. It seemed to last a long
time. But I don’t mind it so much now, for
I feel that it can never happen to me again.
At least I hope it can’t, for I don’t know
what I have done to deserve such a fate, any more than
I know why it should have happened to me once.”

“Something you did in a previous existence,
perhaps,” I answered. “You see then
you may have hunted other creatures so cruelly that
at last your turn came to suffer what you had made
them suffer. I often think that because of what
we have done before we men are also really being hunted
by something we cannot see.”

“Ah!” exclaimed the Hare, “I never
thought of that. I hope it is true, for it makes
things seem juster and less wicked. But I say,
friend Mahatma, what am I doing here now, where you
tell me poor creatures with four feet never, or hardly
ever come?”